The handsome waiter—Morgan, his name tag reads—smiles sympathetically.
“Another round of bread?” He nods to the empty plate in front of me.
“And a little more of the good stuff…” I wiggle my empty wine glass. “And I don’t mean cum. I swore off cock on Halloween.”
Morgan sputters, cheeks tinting pink, but nods quickly and takes my glass and empty bread bowl. I can’t technically get drunk. The perks of being a vampire, I suppose. Well…not a vampire.
I don’t know if I believe my sadistic, murderous teacher and half-sister. Diedre Stevens attempted to kill me in a futile attempt to create discord between the vampires and other species. Honestly? It worked. Most of the monsters at the Academy haven’t been able to make eye contact with me, the disdain thickening the air like syrup. Two vampires have already transferred schools due to the bullying and murder attempts.
It’s a real problem, guys.
It’s been a week since Halloween, and things have been…weird. I’ve been able to avoid my new guy friends for now, but I know my luck is going to run out. Hux, for one, is getting agitated, and Jack is anxious. Mason is confused, and I’m pretty sure Vin is annoyed.
And Frankie…
I brush his name beneath the proverbial rug, knowing that I don’t have the mental or emotional strength to think about him and his confession. Nope. Not today, Satan.
Today, I’m going to enjoy a nice dinner with my invisible, absentee father.
Winning.
Morgan returns with my now full wine glass and another loaf of bread. At first, he was surprised by how much I could eat. Namely, three loaves. I think by this point, he has just accepted me, flaws and all.
As I trace the rim of my cup, I ask absently, “Why do men suck?”
“Excuse me?” He lifts a pierced brow.
“And not the normal type of suck. Honestly, you don’t even understand the comedic timing of that sentence. I can assure you, it’s funny. But yeah, men suck. Dads suck. Guy friends suck. Boyfriends suck. And I, unfortunately, am unable to suck. I’m talking about cocks.”
Morgan surprises the shit out of me by sitting across from me in the black leather booth.
“Guy trouble?” he asks, nose scrunching in distaste.
My eyes practically get stuck in the back of my head with how hard I roll them.
“Understatement of the century.” I blow out a breath, stirring my golden hair. He purses his lips and taps a finger against his stubbled chin.
“Want to talk about it?”
A normal person would probably hear his words for what they are—an empty offer. But I suppose I’m desperate and needy.
Downing the rest of my drink, I place my elbows on the table and lean forward. “So there’s this guy…or a couple. And we’re friends.”
“You and these guys?” Morgan asks for clarification.
“Yes. Besties. We had matching Halloween costumes and everything.” My lips curl into a smile when I think about Vin in his Velma outfit—complete with the skirt and brown wig. “But then, one of them betrayed me…well, I thought he betrayed me. Apparently, he never had any intention to kill me. Who knew? And the second guy—Vin—I found him in a bedroom with another girl. He wasn’t doing anything with her, to be honest. Actually, he pretty much told her to fuck off, but he hasn’t talked to me since then. Does he hate me? Does he still have feelings for her? And don’t even get me started on the third. I swear it feels like there are two of them…probably because he has a split personality. And no, I’m not exaggerating.”
The poor human has his mouth propped open, eyes glazed. I pat his hand softly.
“Keep up, pretty boy. It ain’t rocket science.”
“So are you dating any of these guys?” Morgan asks, lifting a brow.
I release another heavy sigh. “Not technically.”
Though Frankie did admit to me that he was my mate.
Some monsters have mates—the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. I haven’t heard any cases of vampires receiving a soulmate, but that could be because vampires are technically dead and don’t have souls. Or maybe that’s gingers. I can’t really remember.
I can’t deny that there’s a spark between us, an undeniable pull. From the first moment I saw him, I was attracted to his stoic front and analytical mind. He isn’t as bulky or muscular as the other guys, but there’s no denying he’s handsome. Beautiful. He makes my heart pitter-patter like a thousand butterflies have been released. The chemistry between us is nearly explosive—ironic, considering he’s the epitome of “mad scientist.” As the son of Frankenstein—the experiment of Frankenstein—he sort of has to be.
There’s still so much I don’t know about him, but my feelings are too raw for me to ask. I don’t trust myself when I’m around him.
“Okay, look, I’m not going to pretend I understood all of that,” Morgan begins slowly, placatingly. “I probably didn’t catch ninety-nine percent of it. However, my only advice would be to communicate. Talk to them. Be vulnerable.” He flashes me a sheepish smile. “They’re probably thanking their lucky stars that they have a woman as funny and beautiful as you.”
Awww. That’s sweet…and kind of creepy. I’m a psychopathic murderer.
Nobody should be happy to have me in their life.
“Now, what did you say about your dad?” Morgan picks up a piece of bread and shoves it in his mouth, his expression thoughtful as he chews.
“My dad…” I trail off as I check my phone for the millionth time. A new text message from Papa himself flashes on the screen, sent five minutes ago.
Dad (Dracula) (Papa Bear) (Psychotic Murderer): somethin cane up. Cant make it.
Hasn’t that man ever heard of grammar? Or apostrophes? Or basic spelling?
Honestly, people who don’t take the time to text correctly are dead to me. Dead. I will just not respond.
With a huff, I shove my phone back down on the table and scowl.
“My dad is an asshole who constantly cancels on me,” I snarl.
He winces. “Yeah, I feel that. I don’t get along with my parents either. My mom, actually.”
That makes me perk up like the twisted bitch I know myself to be. “Is she an asshole too?”
“She wants me to get into the family business.” He shrugs, muscles flexing.
“And what do you want to do?”
“Obviously, be a waiter for the rest of my life,” he teases. “But in all seriousness, I don’t know what I want to do. At all. Finish college. Maybe develop a skill or trade.”
“Do it. Be your own person. Follow your dreams… I’m pretty sure I read that one on the bottom of a Snapple cap.” With another sigh, I press my palms onto the wooden table and slide out. “I can take the check now. Obviously, my parental figure isn’t showing up.” I feel my lips twist and distort hideously.
“It’s on the house,” Morgan counters immediately.
“On the house?”
“You had a shitty enough day. Seriously. Tab’s on the house.” He offers me a warm smile, two dimples appearing on both cheeks. I feel myself instinctively smile back.